


In the Shadow of the Throne

by Ramzes



Series: Targaryens: Times of Glory [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramzes/pseuds/Ramzes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Son, brother and uncle, a revered Hand and a mistrusted King, Viserys II spent his entire life in the shadow of the throne. Now officially AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting Ready for the Dance

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a Dance of Dragons fic. It will have parts of this but it's focused on Viserys II and the pivotal moments in his life, so there will be leaps in time.

Technically, he was born in 123 AL. He knew his birth had been heralded and rejoiced in, that they had placed a dragon egg in his cradle, that everyone had come to know that the future queen had secured the Targaryen line once more. Still, he felt that his real life might have started when he was about six-year-old and queer things started to happen. It all began when his grandfather died and wouldn't come back, no matter how much Viserys begged and prodded him, and told him it was no longer funny. Behind him, his mother gasped with horror and shame and yanked him off, the rings on her fingers cutting into him painfully. Behind them, the court started talking. "My lord grandfather doesn't want to come back," Viserys tried to explain.

Rhaenyra's face was contorted in something he recognized as fury. "How dare you shame me so!" she hissed in a low voice. "What a disgraceful child you are! Your grandfather can't come back, Viserys. He's _dead_."

It was hardly the first time he heard that but it made no sense. When he and Aegon played at fighters, they killed each other and they came back each time. Why wouldn't his jovial grandfather he was so fond of do the same?

"The child's manners could use some improvement," a familiar voice said but Viserys couldn't remember whose it was. His mother looked up and her face went colder.

"When you have a son, dear brother," she spat, 'raise him as you would, by any means. But don't you dare tell me how to raise mine."

Young Aegon smiled a smile that Viserys did not like at all. He gave Rhaenyra a bow and went off. Viserys frowned – his uncle's bow had not been as deep as everyone else's was these days. By his mother's clenched jaw, he knew that she, too, had noticed.

A few days later, he heard the women in his mother's household whispering that there was a "rift" in the Small Council, that the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was rumoured to make some preparations of his own.

"He is a spurned man," they said, "and Her Grace should have known that he was never the one to take rejection lightly. Now, the crown on her head might depend on her ability to convince him to forgive the insult given."

And then one of them hissed, "Hush! The child, the little one, he's listening!"

They all fell silent as they saw him only a few steps from them, a little shadow in the alcove, all ears and attention.

A few days later, he was shaken awake quite roughly. When he opened his eyes, he saw it was still night. His half-brother Aemon loomed over him, the light of the single candle intensifying the purple in his eyes and making his hair more dark auburn. Viserys hadn't seen him in months and was about to throw himself at him when Aemon unceremoniously dragged him out of bed. "Where are your clothes?" he asked and at his tight, controlled voice Viserys felt terrified.

"Where are they?" Aemon asked, then looked around impatiently and wrapped Viserys in the first cloak he saw lying around, probably one of the servants.

"Aemon, what's…"

"Hush!" Aemon said. "Don't make a sound, Viserys. Whatever you see, don't make a sound. I'm taking you to Mother… but you must be quiet. Don't be afraid. I'm holding you. You're safe with me. Do you understand?" he added as he carried the boy, half-running down the hall.

In the dim light, Viserys' pale purple eyes shone with fear. He nodded empathically but said nothing. Aemon nodded, pleased. "That's a good boy. Remember, there is nothing to fear."

But there was. Viserys just didn't know what it was. Aemon carried him down a big staircase; Viserys lifted the edge of the cloak just enough to look around. Knights, lords, ladies and handmaidens, the members of his household, the members of his mother's household – they were all descending the stairs in a run. In their arms, they carried bags, boxes, and caskets. Many of the women were weeping but silently.

"Hurry up!" someone prompted but softly. Viserys recognized Ser Arryk of the Kingsguard. Why did he look so sad? Why was everyone so scared? He opened his mouth to ask, then remembered Aemon's order and closed it again.

Suddenly, Ser Arryk was now next to them, holding his hands out. "I'll take the boy, Your Grace," he said.

Viserys shook his head against his brother and clung to him. "He stays with me," Aemon said, although his arms must be aching now. Viserys was such a big boy now. Everyone said so.

"Her Grace ordered that we meet her as soon as possible," the white knight said.

"I know," Aemon whispered back. "I'm coming from her."

Were they all going to see his mother? But that was not the way for the throne room.

Soon, they were out of the protective shadow of the Red Keep. The pale moon cast a shimmering veil over them, a few clouds obscured their vision. Viserys was now cold but he knew that if he said that, there was nothing Aemon could do.

His brother was anxious to get as far away as possible. Pale-faced stable hands brought them horses and Aemon threw Viserys on one of them and jumped behind him. Something was queer there – the hooves of so many horses made no noise at all. And they were headed for a smaller gate and not the barbican.

When they were out, Aemon sighed and urged his horse forward, in a different direction to what the others were taking. Ser Arryk, a few other knights, and Rhaenyra's closest attendants followed.

Suddenly, the stallion came to a halt. Aemon looked back, at the castle they had just… fled? Viserys couldn't comprehend it. Targaryens did not flee, yet that was what they had done. With Mother's knowledge.

Aemon's dark, handsome face twisted in fury Viserys had never known before. He clenched his fist and shook it at the Red Keep, at someone Viserys did not know. "We'll be back," he vowed. "We'll be back and you'll pay, traitor. You will pay with all you have."

Without adding a word, he spurred the horse. It was hard to see ion the darkness, but the road soon started climbing and by the smell greeting them, Viserys knew they were going for the Dragonpit. As always, his excitement grew.

Rhaenyra stood in front of her Syrax' cell. Her attire was in disarray, her hair singed – the dragons were obviously uneasy with so many visitors they didn't know at once and puffed smoke incessantly despite being constantly ordered not to. This was the first time Viserys saw his mother without any jewels but her rings. Her ladies surrounded her and Ser Marel of the Kingsguard was looking around vigilantly, his sword ready. Aegon stood slightly aside with a few knights. Aemon released Viserys and the boy ran to Aegon while Aemon went for their mother and they started talking in urgent voices.

"What happened?" Viserys asked.

His brother looked distraught. Did he understand what was happening? He looked to know more than Viserys. "Uncle Aegon falsified our lord grandfather's will," Aegon said, leaving Viserys stunned with so many words he didn't know. "He'll be proclaimed King first thing in the morning. He stole Mother's crown."

"Oh." Viserys looked at his mother. There was no crown on her head or in her hands, for sure.

"We're leaving," Rhaenyra said. Her castellan, Ser Tollas Whitewood, was now beside her. Her eldest son was standing before the stall of his own dragon. "We'll fight him on the battlefield. But right now, we stand no chance. We'll gather our forces and push the usurper from his stolen throne. But now, we must go."

"Harrenhall is our best bet, Your Grace," Ser Tollas agreed. "And we must leave immediately, your sons and yourselves before everyone else."

"Are we running away?" Viserys asked and Aegon stepped on his foot to make him shut up before Mother could hear him.

"With the dragons, no one can stip us," Rhaenyra said.

"No one but other dragons," Aemon agreed. "Lady Mother, I think it'll be better if we part ways here, so we throw them in confusion as to where they should follow."

"No!"Rhaenyra said sharply. Ser Arryk started talking to her in low voice and Aemon went past them, to the cell where his own Ikarras was sheltered. At his approach, the blue and red dragon gave a low whine, much like a dog, although this one had a rumbling edge that made the floor vibrate.

"Well, Viserys?" Aemon asked. "Do you want to come with me for a ride?"

His voice was cheerful but his eyes were still deep, and dark, and full of fury, just like their mother's. Viserys nodded, although this Aemon, he did not know. But he loved riding dragons and could not wait to become old enough to have one of his own.

"It's bad enough that I have to flee," Rhaenyra spat. "But if we separate, we'll be more vulnerable."

"You'll be vulnerable everywhere now, no matter what," her son Aegyl said. "We will all be now that Aegon made his bid for the throne. And it's better to have them uncertain as to where we went… they won't think we parted ways."

There was something else that he was not telling her, yet Rhaenyra seemed to understand. She angrily rubbed the tracks of dried tears lining her cheeks and nodded. "I'll be a mother of kings," she proclaimed. "That's what that fire witch said. I'll be a mother of kings, and Aegon won't win."

She headed for her younger sons and looked at them sternly. "It's hard time for us now," she said. "We must separate. Aegon, you're coming with me. Viserys, you're leaving with Aemon. Don't make nuisance of yourself and do what he says, otherwise there will be punishment worse than whatever you can imagine. I'll see you at Harrenhall."

Viserys nodded and decided that he didn't have anything to say at all when everyone was so anxious.

Their entourage left the dragonpit. Rhaenyra and her sons remained. Aegyl opened the doors of the stalls one by one and the pit was soon full of smoke, dust, and roars as the dragons were geared for flight.

In the vast courtyard, Aegyl knelt before their mother. She placed her hand on his head for blessing. Aemon and Viserys followed and the boy felt that his mother's fingers were shaking.

"Keep him safe," she said in low voice. "And stay safe yourself."

"I will, Lady Mother," Aemon replied in the same tone. "You can trust me."

They were already high in the sky, with the moon in their reach and the cold wind in their hairs when the first shouts came.

 


	2. Fury of the Dance

The shadows of twilight were creeping upon them. The wind carried into the hall the smell of the cooking meals that would soon be served. Rhaenyra looked up, listening at something that only she could hear. She had an open book on her lap and stared at it resolutely but Viserys had noticed that she hadn't turned a page for a very long time. During the day, she was her usual imperious self, busy and commanding but it seemed to Viserys that as soon as the sky started darkening, she would start listening to some voices no one else could hear.

"Do you think they have reached Great Sword already?" Aegon asked him, his eyes shining with excitement. "The dragons are so fast. They must have. They might have won already!"

Viserys grinned. "Yes. And Ikarras is the fiercest dragon alive. Everyone says so. He'll kill Vhagar in no time at all!"

"Hush, children," the old maester at-arms Ser Edwar scolded them. "Her Grace wouldn't want to hear such talks."

"No one does," Viserys complained. Not that there were so many warriors left at Harrenhall, anyway – every man able to fight had left with his older brothers. Now, it was only his lady mother and her attendants here, and some other ladies. Lots of other ladies. They didn't understand. They only prayed and whispered, and were scared of war. Viserys knew their army would crush his uncle's and restore his mother to her throne but they seemed to doubt it, always afraid that they might become widows soon. And several of them had sons at the battlefield, as well. Servants and retainers had become infected with the highborn's unease.

In all, their life was quite a hushed one. Maesters, septons, training in the yard, sitting in the great hall – that was the two princes' routine. Harrenhall was big but there were only as many times as they could roam through its halls. And they weren't allowed to explore the ruins – it was considered too dangerous. They weren't allowed to leave the walls for a ride – that had been proclaimed even more dangerous. As a result, they had become almost as restless as their mother.

A huge shadow fell over the hearth. Some dogs that had been dozing around howled in distress.

Before the boys could understand what was going on, a few women had already rushed for the embrasures. Rhaenyra's book fell on the carpet and she rose slowly. She had paled visibly, stricken by a new fear. "It's too early," one of the ladies cried.

The door opened and the castellan of Harrenhall came in and bowed. "We won!" he blurted then, completely forgotten about his dignity. His face was beaming. "We won at Great Sword, my lady! The first men came back with the dragons and they say…"

Rhaenyra laughed and her face lit up. Viserys had forgotten how beautiful his mother could be when she smiled. The women crowded around the castellan, excited and anxious, asking about their husbands. He raised his hands and defended himself by this general assault claiming that he knew nothing – he had come to tell the Queen the news of the victory as soon as he had been told himself.

Rhaenyra laughed again and came to her sons, spun them around, hugged them impulsively. "Finally!" she cried out. "The usurper now knows that I am not to be trifled with. He'll be cursing the day his mother wed my lord father, I swear it!"

The dragon shadow had moved from the hearth. Rhaenyra left the hall in a hurry, headed for the huge bailey where more knights and men-at-arms were arriving on dragonback. Viserys liked it better when dragons were used for fighting but he had to admit that they did make good… wheelhouses.

By now, everyone at Harrenhall seemed to have heard. Everyone was running to the bailey. Everyone was laughing and talking excitedly. The twilight was chased away by tens of torches that bathed the arriving dragons in light, giving their various colours deeper hues.

"That's Ikarras!" Viserys cried exuberantly. Aegon nodded enthusiastically.

Next to them, Ser Edwar murmured, "Tarsol is flying very insecurely."

"Maybe he's been wounded!" Viserys suggested, looking at the great white beast with renewed interest. He had never seen a dragon with a battle wound.

"Shut up!" Rhaenyra snapped. She looked as if she might slap him, so Viserys stepped aside, prudently. She lost any interest in him, though, her eyes following intently the unsteady dragon. Slowly, Viserys realized that Tarsol might fall down on them and crush them under his weight.

"Everyone in!" Rhaenyra ordered and no one was slow to obey. The laughter and anticipation all around had died all of a sudden. "You too," she told her sons and they obediently stepped away.

"Come on," Aegon said. "Mother said…"

"She isn't looking at us," Viserys whispered back. Their mother stood with her back at them, no doubt convinced that she would be obeyed. "I want to see what's wrong with Tarsol."

"Come on!" his brother insisted. Viserys only huddled behind a marble column. Aegon shrugged and entered the castle, joining the hundreds of people who watched from every door and window.

Rhaenyra stood alone, very small in the enormous bailey, her chin lifted proudly. The world shook when the dragon fell from the sky in a storm of dust. An old tower couldn't take the pressure and crumbled. Everyone cried out as one.

Viserys shook his head to clear his view and saw his mother striding ahead, threading carefully away from the fire breath of the writhing dragon. "How on earth are we going to move him?" someone cried, aghast.

Rhaenyra stepped through the cloud. "Baelon!" she cried out and it was then that Viserys was finally aware of what his mother must have known all along: in this moment, his eldest brother might be lying crushed under the weight of his own dragon. He stepped forward.

"No!" someone cried from above. Ikarras was now circling down. Aemon immediately turned his eyes back to the bailey, looking for a safe place to land. "Viserys, step back!"

With a new shudder of the earth, the second dragon landed. Ser Edwar and a few of the more daring ladies came forward hesitantly. Viserys walked behind Lady Lannister, hoping that his mother and brother wouldn't see him.

But it seemed he was the last thing in their minds right now. Aemon dismounted with his usual ease but his companions were slower. Then they started lowering a limp body that had been secured with ropes. In the torchlight, Viserys saw the familiar shining of silvery-gold hair, spattered with red _._ The violet eyes, though, were cloded. The breastplate had been removed and the boy could see that the chest was covered with caked blood, too, softened by a constant fresh flow.

"Get the maesters!" Rhaenyra snapped and leaned over the body they had left on the stones, a good deal away from the reach of the dragons'breath. Not a sigh, not a tear. Her hands pressed to her throat, as if she wanted to stifle a scream, she went to her knees, her eyes never moving from her son's closed ones. Very slowly, her hand went to his cheek.

Now that she was away from the dragons, her people started thronging once again, talking in low voices. Were they looking at a living man, or a dead one? Aemon knelt on his brother's other side, not daring to look his mother in the eye. Viserys came to them, not bothering to hide any more.

Baelon slowly raised his eyelids, recognized his mother, tried to smile. "Won," Viserys heard him murmur. It was the faintest intake of breath, a mere sigh.

"I know," Rhaenyra said. "You did well."

"He did," Aemon confirmed. "He and Tarsol took down Vhagar and Aemond on their own. They are both dead," he went on and reached for his brother's hand but it was so thorn and bleeding that he reconsidered and just sat there helplessly.

A ripple went through the crowd. Vhagar had been old, for sure, but she had been a legendary dragon, Queen Visenya's own mount. And a youngling as Tarsol had killed her? It was hard to believe.

"Now, that's a good start," Rhaenyra said. Her voice was steady, yet there was something strange about her eyes. Some… shine. Behind them, one of the dragons swished a tail and someone screamed when the door of a nearby building rattled.

"Maybe you'll kill Uncle Aegon next!" Viserys said enthusiastically and his mother looked at him as if she had forgotten that he was here. But then, she nodded.

"He's right," she told Baelon. "Now you should heed the maesters if you want to finish your great start."

Baelon looked as if he might have tried to smile – or wince in pain. Blood came rushing from the split in his skull, from his eyes, from his mouth, blood everywhere. Viserys jumped back, drenched in sweat all of a sudden. Rhaenyra screamed – a howl that had nothing human to it, a howl Viserys hadn't known that humans could even _make_ , a howl that echoed all over the ruins of Harrenhall. The dragons howled back. Four maesters came running and two servants hoisted Baelon on a stretcher. Aemon stopped the last one, a maester whose name Viserys didn't know.

"You take care of Tarsol," he said.

The round middle-aged man stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the young prince. "My… my lord… " he stammered. "Surely you understand that your brother…"

"My brother has three other maesters to attend him," Aemon snapped. "You're going to the dragon now."

Rhaenyra who was walking beside the stretcher looked back. "Do what my son says," she called over her shoulder in a voice that brooked no argument.

Obviously terrified, the maester started inching toward the terrified beast, as dangerous in his agony as he was in his prime. The crowd started whispering. As young as he was, Viserys knew that they could never understand. How could Baelon ever recover fully if he lost Tarsol?

From the dragonpit that Rhaenyra had ordered to dig as soon as she had married Lord Strong, Syrax roared.

Viserys trudged behind the small procession. They were almost at the door when the servants suddenly lowered the stretcher to the ground. The maesters leaned over it, rose a moment later, shook their heads. Rhaenyra tore at her hair and screamed again.

Tarsol gave a mighty roar and started rising. The crowd scattered, screaming.

A flame came out of the white dragon's mouth and he fell back on his belly, panting. His head hit the stones, crushing them in pieces.

He died like the young knight who had ridden him.


	3. The Heart of a Dragon

They had gathered into Aegyl's chamber to discuss the situation in private. What the situation was, Viserys was not entirely sure but he knew it must be bad news. As of late, everyone was walking on eggshells, even Aemon's companion, the Dornish Captive, as she was widely known. Viserys knew her only smiling, cooing to her babe and in high spirits, yet now even she was morose. No one was telling the boy what was going on but it was clear that everyone was worried, from stable-boys to lords who convened here. And his mother had become more volatile and imperious than ever. Still, he and Aegon were considered too young to burden with such matters, so he did not even know whether there would be a next campaign. His lady mother wanted to – very much.

"I've never seen such a thing," Aegyl now said from his room. "That's why I've asked you all to come here. We have a problem, my lords. My lady mother seems intent upon doing her cause the most terrible damage she possibly can. We have to find a way to limit the consequences. Surely you've heard about the taxes she landed upon White Harbour?"

"I was there," Aemon said. "I got literally besieged by desperate citizens trying to appeal to me to talk to her." He added something unintelligible and then his voice rose again. "Lord Manderly even threw himself in front of Ikarras' paws. I barely managed to turn his head aside so it was only the hem of Manderly's attire that caught fire. They don't understand that even I can't make Mother listen to reason. And the discontent is already starting to brew. It won't be long before we start losing out own lords' support. We have to act soon because she's losing our allies, the trust of our commanders…"

"Her wits," Aegyl interrupted, and Aemon snorted.

"It isn't the time for jesting, Aegyl."

"You think I am jesting? I think she's gone mad – truly! After Baelon's death, she's truly losing it. Accusing our commanders of fear, demanding that lords should cut their household expenses by a bloody half to pay for the faster start of our campaign? How else should I explain it? It's either the curse of our blood or her time of the month – never stopping! And what do you propose, Aemon? I see no means of silencing her, short of bodily removing her from the room or stuffing a cloth in her mouth – and I imagine Syrax won't be too pleased with this!"

"Stop this conversation immediately!" Lord Arryn said impatiently and it seemed that they both yielded. "I am not here to criticize my niece but the truth is, she's headed for a bad direction and we should mend her course."

Through the closed door, Viserys heard a few people sighing exasperatedly.

"She wants her crown," Aemon finally said. "She wants all this to end. And now, she wants vengeance, as well."

"We all do," Aegyl admitted, his voice softer. "But the way it's going, we're less likely to have it with any passing day. And the thought of someone else having to avenge you and me at the end does not sound all that appealing."

"No, it doesn't…"

"I think Her Grace is scared," Ser Edwar interrupted. "She's scared that this might go on forever, that she'd lose one of you, too, and she doesn't act wisely, thus reaffirming the already existing belief that women are not fit to rule."

"A belief that the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard did his best to spread widely," Aegyl murmured. "I say we finish him off first, and the rest of them will scatter."

"I am not sure about this." Ser Arryk's voice was strange. It suddenly occurred to Viserys that he hadn't seen Ser Arryk's twin, Ser Erryk, also of the Kingsguard, for quite a while. No one would talk about him. When Viserys asked, Ser Arryk would look downcast and start talking about other things. It suddenly occurred to the boy that Ser Erryk might have stayed with the Kingsguard… Aegon's Kingsguard. But no, that was impossible. Still, why did they have only Ser Arryk, Ser Marel, and Ser Gawane from his grandfather's Kingsguard here? His mother had appointed four other members but could it be that the others had decided it was their duty to stay with Aegon?

A heavy silence fell. Then, Aemon spoke again. "We are all in agreement, it seems. Something must be done. But what could it be? She is not listening to me these days, she obsesses over regrouping the army and… telling me that I need to get a better armour. As if there is something that is really indestructible! Maybe you could talk to her, my lord?" he asked. "She respects you."

"That might be so," the old Lord Arryn sighed. "But she is not listening to me much these days either." He paused. "I wish your father were still alive," he said. "Usually, he was able to get her see things his way."

"Well, he isn't," Aemon said. "We have to fix this on our own as soon as possible."

"Maybe if he were, we wouldn't be in this blasted situation right now," Aegyl murmured. "I mean, if he were alive, she wouldn't have even glanced at this damned Ser Criston direction…"

Suddenly, there was silence that Viserys did not understand. It was a very peculiar silence, once that accompanied the mentioning of the Lord Commander – but only sometimes.

"Aegyl, not another word! Do you ever think before you talk? I swear, sometimes I doubt it very heavily!"

"What in the seven hells is that? You're telling me you never heard the rumours? I name you a liar then."

"Stop that!" Lord Arryn finally exploded and by the sound of it, he parted them bodily. It was suddenly very quiet again and the lord huffed, "Brother against brother. Aegon will scream with joy if he hears what the two of you were about to do." He paused. "Now, Aegyl, listen to me and listen well! The last thing we need is you repeating this rumour. Whatever the truth is, the affair never took place. Do you hear me? It – never – took – place!"

By the silence that followed, Viserys could say that his brother had yielded, albeit grudgingly, to the man they all held in such high esteem.

The discussion went on in a more moderate tone, with different suggestions of how to make Rhaenyra listen to reason. "Maybe if we all talk to her together," Aegyl said, hesitantly. "Royal power is not absolute and His Grace taught her that. I know she knows it. She simply isn't herself now and we have to make her realize that she isn't gaining anything by such behavior."

Suddenly, a hand grasped Viserys' shoulder. He had been so focused on the conversation inside that he had not heard the footsteps approaching; now, when he felt the painful digging of rings in his skin, he knew, with horror and certainty, who it was.

"What are you doing, eavesdropping?" his mother snapped but she was so white that Viserys realized that she, too, must have heard. She took a deep breath and entered the room, her head held high, his eyes purple steel.

"Are we having a council now?" she asked evenly. "It seems that all of you had forgotten to alert me."

The men stood and bowed. Aemon looked her in the eye. "I called them, Lady Mother. We needed to talk. Your actions as of late are not what I would call wise or prudent, or fruitful and I wanted to discuss it with them before I approach you."

There was no trying to find excuse. Viserys who had slipped in the room behind his mother was awed by Aemon's courage. He would never risk facing their mother's wrath like this.

"I see," Rhaenyra said. "So… what is your verdict? That I go barefoot to Aegon and surrender in shame before I could destroy my cause completely?"

He flushed but did not yield. "No one never said such a thing, Lady Mother. We are trying to prevent just this from happening and when some of us try to talk to you about that, you pretend not to hear. You are undoing all we managed to achieve and I have no idea why! Let's see what happened to White Harbour: it fell."

"After a long and rather nonsensical defence!" Rhaenyra interrupted swiftly.

"And you ordered a heavy taxing that was more nonsensical than even their defence!" Aemon shot back. "If this taxing is really imposed, a third of the citizens there will die! Let me ask you this, Your Grace: who do you intend of ruling over, the waste? But no, against every common sense you're burdening towns and castles over their limits and thus you're supporting their resistance – if they are going to die, let it be in a cause, at least. You're making enemies faster than the dragons can burn them and I do not understand why!"

Her eyes blazed. "Oh but you do. Don't tell me that you don't because you do!" Her voice rose to a shout. "And do not throw White Harbour to my face. Had it not been for House Manderly support in front of the Starks, all of this might have ended months ago."

Her eyes were still purple fires but now they were brimmed by the mist of tears. "Lord Manderly aided Aegon in his treachery. Cole is from there, as you well know. He would not have dared defy me without the support of the Starks which could only come through the Manderlys. If not for their loyalty, I would never have had my right disputed. They robbed me of my crown; they robbed me of my son. And yet you wonder why I would place heavy taxes upon them? Manderly should be beyond pleased that he has something left, including his head!"

The men were listening – unwillingly, maybe, because that was not what they wanted to hear but intently, nonetheless. Surprisingly but it was Aegyl who made the first step: he crossed to his mother and looked her more softly. "Lady Mother, I do understand," he said. "We all feel this anger as we should. All we are saying is that we cannot always act upon this anger. You have the courage and will a ruler need. Now you must show the self-restraint.'

She was silent, not admitting defeat, her chin still lifted proudly. The tears were still there, though, and she suddenly looked smaller, more fragile. She knew she had made mistakes. Aegyl made a step back and bowed to her very deeply and formally, a subject to his sovereign. Aemon followed, as did all of the others.

After a while, Rhaenyra asked, "Did I lose us too much?"

Lord Arryn shook his head and a smile lit his face up. "No," he said. "Not too much, lass. You might have placed us in a tight spot right now… but we are going to win this war."


	4. Games of Blood

Thunder shook the great hall and the flames in the fireplace shot up, swirled together, swept by the dance of fury. The crowd gasped. A few handmaids hurried over with buckets of water should need arise but Aegon waved them away. "One cannot hold the dragons with water," he said and his mother smiled as she made her way to the door.

"Lady Mother," Viserys called out, hurrying to catch up with her. "May I come?"

"Yes, Lady Mother," Aegon agreed. "May we join you?"

Rhaenyra did not look back. "Keep the children inside," she ordered to no one specifically. "Just because the fool on the blue dragon thinks he can defeat an entire army that also has dragons, that still doesn't mean the princes should be exposed to dragons in fight."

Viserys exchanged a look with Aegon. It did not escape their notice that no one else looked eager to be exposed to dragons in fight – in fact, the Queen's attendants did her best to stay out of her way, lest she decided she needed companions. But Lady Serise was already coming toward them, so they had no choice but look from the window while their mother probably watched the fight from the highest tower in Dragonstone.

The earth rumbled as the dragon in black and gold suddenly plummeted and stomped his leg on the ground. Then, he suddenly shot up, hitting his green-white opponent from beneath and breathing a column of fire. The other dragon shrieked and thrashed about, missing the enemy's head by inches. The black-golden one flew some distance away and then suddenly turned and headed right back, bumping into the other one's side. Viserys screamed, for it was surely a death sentence, and for a moment he could swear he could hear the rider's uproarious laughter before he avoided death once again.

Now, it was just three of their dragons against five of Aegon's. Even with his child's mind, Viserys could see that things were not looking good. With sudden insight, he thought that this might be the reason why his mother watched the fight alone – she wouldn't want anyone to see her anxiety.

"What happened?" a woman asked. Everything had happened so fast that not everyone knew of the two dragons that had suddenly been noticed flying for Dragonstone, chased by five others. When they could flee no longer, they had turned and given a fight. Viserys had yet to know who the second dragon, the red one, belonged to. She was young – it had to be a she, for the dragon was smaller and somewhat slender, or as slender as a dragon could be – but its agility and smart movements showed that it was no hatchling – and very well-trained. He was sure he had seen her in King's Landing but he couldn't say whom she belonged to.

Now, three of the enemy dragons surrounded her. Viserys closed his eyes, not wanting to see her fall but when he opened them, the battle was still going on.

"They don't want to take her down," Aegon murmured, stunned. "They want to… capture her, I think."

The dragon in gold and black roared and launched another attack that left him bleeding. Viserys and Aegon both screamed.

The sky disappeared under the curtain of a few other pair of wings. A chorus of roars made Dragonstone shudder and then, suddenly, Aegyl was there, mounting his Arelis, with a formation of three other dragons backing him up. They had not been expected to return sooner than the morrow, having left on some urgent errands that the boys were not allowed to know what they were… Eavesdropping hadn't helped either.

Sharp cries arose. Now their people had the edge of it, with two more dragons that could turn the tide.

"Look!" Aegon cried out. "They are running away, the cowards. They were not so reluctant to fight when _they_ outnumbered _us_."

Viserys barely heard him. He was staring entranced at the battle between dragons and riders. He had heard that a dragon would never run away from a fight and it was true, all of it. He could hear the roars of indignation, see the resistance of the great beasts thorn between their loyalty to their masters and their instinct to stay and fight, tear the enemy, taste his blood.

Their people charged and Aegon's met the attack. Hot blood started pouring like rain and the smallfolk started screaming and scrambling for cover from the torrent that was washing over them and sinking in the earth. Dragonstone shook once again, the earth groaned and a big part of the seaside rock crumbled to ruins that plummeted in the waves. The swell was so great that a nearby ship sank immediately.

So huge were the dragons that even when they were so high above, Viserys could still make out clearly their jaws, the huge claws gripping each other's flanks.

And then, it was all bright and clear again. Aegon's dragons flew away, shrieking with fury, and their own flew back to the ancient fortress. The black and gold one flew forward, carrying his reckless rider.

Rhaenyra came into the courtyard – Viserys had been right, she had been watching from the tower – and coolly nodded to the newcomer who ceremoniously bowed to her. Then, he grinned and swept her in his arms to kiss her passionately, to the barely contained disdain of her people who had stepped aside to give them some privacy – and give themselves some privacy from the dragons, no doubt. "Are you not happy that I am home, my love?" the man called out.

"I am overjoyed, husband," she said. Viserys could see that she was anything but.

His father looked at them and grinned once again. The boys grinned back.

Rhaenyra looked at the red dragon and raised an eyebrow. "What is she doing here?" she asked, looking straight at Aegyl who shrugged.

"How am I to know, Lady Mother?" he replied.

"If anyone know, it should be you," she snapped. "Help her down."

Quite reluctantly, he helped the rider down. For a dragon rider, she was quite clumsy – or maybe it was her belly that billowed the light armour she was wearing. Her auburn-golden hair made her face even paler and her eyes a deeper shade of purple. Viserys blinked. She shouldn't have been here at all, so why was she…

Bowing to his mother?

Rhaenyra's face betrayed nothing but Aegyl was seething with rage. He made a step towards her. "Why are you here?" he asked with barely contained anger.

Princess Rhaenys looked at him. She looked so exhausted that she might collapse any minute now. "I came to find you," she said.

He laughed derisively. "And what made you think I'd want you now? When I begged you to come with us, you stayed with your usurping brother. Did it not occur to you that I might have moved on?"

She didn't flinch. "I was the one who warned you what Aegon and my lady mother were planning," she reminded him. "And back then, I didn't know…"

"I imagine what it was that you didn't know," he spat. "I suppose I am the babe's father?" he asked with grim curiosity and his dark eyes bore into hers. The dying sunlight turned his hair into molten silver.

"I'd rather have the Stranger as my babe's father!" Rhaenys exploded. She looked as if she wanted to slap him.

"Well, I thought I was the Stranger, Rhaenys?" he asked. "That's what you kept telling me."

Finally, Rhaenyra lost the last vestige of her patience. "Everyone inside," she commanded. "There is no need to humour everyone."

On the way for the building, Viserys noticed Aegyl and Rhaenys exchanging looks like angry children who were on their way to reconciling.

* * *

_An hour later…_

"How did you come across her?" Rhaenyra asked and started rubbing her temples. Lately, she had been struggling with constant headaches.

Gaemon shrugged. "By chance," he said. "I think she had lost her way in the sky. Had she ever been here at Dragonstone at all?"

"Once or twice when she was a child," Rhaenyra answered, absent-mindedly. "I can't believe she managed to hide her condition for so long," she added but the truth was, her young half-sister had always been something of a loner, preferring dragons to people and wearing shapeless robes, to her mother's horror. This attire would have served her well.

"Do you think it's a lie?" her husband asked straight-forwardly. "Some trap of the Queen's?"

"She is no longer Queen," Rhaenyra snapped. " _I_ am. I am the Queen of Westeros, not just the King's wife."

 _Here it is_ , Viserys thought. He had _known_ that his mother was angry with his father from the moment Gaemon Targaryen flew his dragon in the courtyard. It had been just a matter of time before she gave her anger free will.

Quite contrary to his habit, Aegon shoved his brother aside quite roughly and for a while, they struggled for the better position in front of their mother's bedchamber, all the while trying to make no noise at all.

Their father did not raise his voice. He only sighed. "Rhaenyra, there's no need to beat this into my skull. I know you are the Queen and I am only your husband. I know you're angry with me and – "

"Angry?" she demanded. "Why should I be angry with you? You have a life of your own and I have mine. I trust your travels in Essos were quite satisfactory? Did you see the Dothraki as you intended?"

Gaemon's steps echoed around his wife's chamber. "I came as soon as I could, Rhaenyra," he said. She huffed in derision.

"Your speed was not fast enough," she spat. "And I can't help but see that while you were in such a hurry to get back, you still got to play the brave knight to the poor lady in distress. Leading Aegon's traitors straight to me and our children, if I might add."

"But now we have Rhaenys," he said reasonably. "The fact that Aegon's own sister is denouncing him would serve our cause greatly."

" _Our_ cause?" Rhaenyra asked and laughed. "Since when do you have a cause other than adventuring? I have a cause, husband. For me and my sons. For justice. For my right."

He did not rise to the bait. "If Rhaenys gives Aegyl a son, people will be even more favourable toward you. Aegon has yet to sire a son. He only has the little girl while you have our boys and three grown sons. With a line of their own…"

Viserys exhaled sharply. His mother gave something like a sudden sob. "Two grown sons," she said. "Only two."

The silence crushed them like the sky falling, like a dragon's dead body shaking the earth for one last time.

"Rhaenyra," Gaemon said, his voice now soft. "I didn't know."

"That much is clear," she spat. "How could you know? You weren't here. I was left alone to struggle with Aegon and his bitch of a mother, with traitors, with keeping our sons safe, with my fear for Aemon and Aegyl… And Rhaenys' babe is as much a threat to us as it is to Aegon. Now he has no choice but fight us to the bitter end, for we are on our way on establishing a dynasty. And my sons are the first obstacles in his path."

Gaemon's steps stopped. "I know," he said softly. "Our boys will be probably safe but Aegyl and Aemon… Boys who are sons of the enemy are still only boys. But men who are sons of the enemy… they are enemies and rivals of equal worth. Their makings are something Aegon cannot forgive."

Viserys shuddered, for despite his father's careless ways, he felt in his words the eerie certainty of a prophecy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating for so long. I've been on holiday… and in a few days, I'm off to another one, shorter this time.


	5. To Dance with a Queen

The sun was at its highest, bathing the sea in its warm glow, yet let on the faintest hint of nearing coldness. Could it be the long hard winter maesters had recently predicted? Viserys had heard their people discussing this very possibility with great concern. Winter was the worst enemy they could face at war. Winter meant hampered movements, less victuals, less men-at-arms and more casualties before even reaching the enemy. Winter was as bad as a hot summer. The best seasons for was were spring and autumn. Everyone said so.

Next to Viserys, Aegon lifted his head from the stone slab of the roof where they were both sprawled and looked down and ahead. "Look," he said.

Viserys did and immediately saw what his brother meant: there was a small fleet slowly cutting the luminous waters to Dragonstone. What was even more astonishing was the sigil on the sail: the white watchtower with the bright flame crowning it. The boys had seen it hundreds of times carried in front of the King's Hand. We Light the Way, House Hightower words were. "Your way to wealth," Gaemon Targaryen was never slow to add sarcastically.

"Is this the Hand?" Viserys asked, stunned. "Aegon, is this the Queen?"

"Bad queen," the little girl splayed out between the two of them cried out.

Aegon and Viserys exchanged a look. As young as Alysse Waters was, she was quite right about this. Since she tended to repeat some of what the two of them said, Viserys could only wonder whom was she echoing now. Her mother? Or Aemon? "You little echo," he said softly, with a mix of irritation and fondness. Normally, Aemon's companion and her child were given wide berth by the lords and ladies on Rhaenyra's side and Viserys knew them only by occasional meetings in Aemon's chambers or the castle but since there were no other children of noble birth in Dragonstone, it was only natural for the two boys to let the girl lag behind – she was the only one who was, well, like them, although the difference between her four namedays and their seven and nine, respectively, was quite big.

"I am not an echo," Alysse said, angrily, jumped up, and stomped her little foot on the ground. Her indigo eyes flashed, the curtain of her dark hair, for she had long ago removed the offending bows, flew to one side. "You are an echo!"

"I don't think it's the Hand," Aegon said. "He doesn't command the Hightower fleet."

"It isn't," Alysse confirmed. "It is Lord Hightower," she went on. "My father and the Queen were expecting him…"

The two boys looked at each other, stunned by the realization that all this time their little echo could have been a wonderful source of information. Since she was so young, adults rarely guarded their words around her, unaware that she was quite smart, for a girl, at least, and had quite the memory.

"Fine," Aegon finally said and tugged at her leg to make her lay back between the two of them. "Now, tell me what else do they speak about in your father's chambers?"

Lord Mychel Hightower was a dignified man. Yes, that was the word. Dignified. Once a formidable knight, he still retained some of his strength despite his grey hair and stooped shoulders. His eyes were wide and clear, his cloak gleaming despite the fact that he had not changed it since his arrival – he had come directly from the ship.

He entered the hall slowly, deliberately. His mind was not exactly at ease but he knew this was what he needed to do. If he was to preserve the dignity and prestige of his House – as well as his rule over it – he needed to acknowledge the crown that Rhaenyra Targaryen had placed over her silver haughty head.

It was a sad day indeed for Westeros when the good King Viserys' son, and a Hightower by blood, should be supplanted by a woman. But Aegon and Alicent had proved unreliable monarchs – and Otto was worse than both of them combined.

Once Mychel Hightower reached the dais, he knelt before Rhaenyra. To his surprise, she bade him rise immediately – had she finally seen reason? But no, by the burning rage in her eyes he could say that she had understood nothing, forgiven nothing. All she could see was that he had opposed her supposed right and he had come now driven not by a sudden change in his convictions but his own need – as if there was other reason a man would ever act upon!

He had just started to speak when a familiar male voice cut him off, saying, "Ah, but we are well aware of your current… predicaments, Lord Hightower."

Mychel stiffened and watched apprehensively as Aemon Targaryen sauntered through the hall to bow deeply in front of his mother's throne.

His presence here was no surprise at all but Mychel Hightower had been hoping that he was otherwise occupied. The Prince had used his influence with his grandfather to undermine House Hightower's positions. Aemon and Mychel had been commanding the opposing forces in a battle that had been fought only two months ago. And the Prince's animosity now had a personal edge, for it was well-known that Lord Hightower had devised the plan that had separated Aemon and his brother Baelon, leaving Baelon's dragon weary and wounded for the final clash with Vhagar. But he had no choice. As he started to speak again, he almost faltered at seeing that Aemon took a reverent step behind the throne. Mychel had expected of him to stand at his mother's side. He did not know whether to feel relieved or alerted that he would have to deal with Rhaenyra and not Aemon. Rhaenyra was proud and stubborn, she would not listen to reason but well, Mychel Hightower always dealt with men better than petticoats. Aemon, on the other side, was a man but he was one that liked Hightowers even less than his mother did…

"My lady," Mychel started, not quite bringing himself to call her "my Queen". "Your Grace," he started again and launched into his prepared plea, that she should help his House keep the prestige and righteous ruling of Oldtown that the Hightowers had been known for since before the War of the Conquest.

"I thought you relied on your kin for this," Rhaenyra said coldly. She looked aged and troubled, he now saw. Perhaps she was human, after all. Or she was simply being a woman. Again, his entire being rebelled against having to acknowledge as the true sovereign of the Seven Kingdoms a woman who would be unclean every month and with child every year… although the last one would stop being a concern very soon.

"I did, Your Grace," he said. "I believe in family. I had no choice. But it seemed that my choice was… wrong."

The words choked him but he went on. "My brother seems intent to ruin the good name of our House. To grasp Oldtown from my hands by a royal decree. Worse, he has lost his wits. They are now… murdering maesters, defiling the honour of the Citadel."

Rhaenyra wasn't the only one taken by surprise; so was Aemon. "What?" he exclaimed and turned to stare at their new ally. "Are you sure of this, my lord of Oldtown?"

"Quite sure, Your Grace. Grand maester Gerardys was fed to King Aegon's dragon."

The surprise was so thorough that no one bothered to correct him that Aegon was no King. Aemon shook his head, disbelieving; Rhaenyra looked as if she were about to be sick. All around the hall, there were whispers of horrified fascination; with desperate irony, the Lord of Oldtown realized that now, there was no going back, for him, as well as all of them. Being devoured by a dragon was not a perspective one cherished and now no man could be sure that it wouldn't be his fate if he deflected to Aegon's side.

With a newfound confidence, he went on with his prepared plea for help. Fortunately for him, he had no idea of the storm that had raged into Rhaenyra's chambers late into the night – she had been adamant that she'd accept nothing less than full acknowledgment of her right before she lifted a finger to help him; Gaemon, Aegyl and Aemon had argued with her, trying to make her see reason. "I want revenge no less than you do!" Aegyl had finally shouted. "But I'd rather have it on Aegon and this bitch mother of his. And you're ensuring that we'll never get this!" At this, she had slapped him. He had accepted it stoically but when she had reared back to strike him again, he had held her hands and shaken her violently.

"Stop it!" Gaemon had exclaimed. "Rhaenyra, you've become so bitter that I do not know you any more. We are responsible for the living ones, not the dead. Baelon will have to wait." At this, she had suddenly melted against Aegyl.

These were the things that their allies – both old and new ones – should never know. Because while a king might be forgiven a momentarily lapse because of feelings, a queen would never be.

Three days later…

"I wish I could come, too," Aemon said. In the early morning they should be shivering slightly but the dragons' breath was so hot that they were tempted to strip to their smallclothes.

Aegyl looked up from where he was busying himself with Arelis' harness. "Next time," he said and grinned. "It looks like we'll have plenty of occasions to go dancing together… thank the Seven that you dance better on Ikkarus than your feet," he jested. As he expected, Aemon laughed. In truth, he didn't mind staying at Dragonstone so very much. He did want to take part in the battle that was promising to be fought at Oldtown but he wasn't too eager for the negotiations that would inevitably follow. Lord Hightower did want to become related to Rhaenyra's family and there was only one way. Sure, Aemon had never imagined that he'd be able to wed his Lyanor but he wasn't in a hurry to take a lawful wife, either.

"Let's go," he said, gripped his brother's hand for a moment and then stepped aside, so Aegyl could let Arelis out of his cell.

In the courtyard, everyone waited. Aegyl nodded at Gaemon with a slight smile, grinned at the boys, knelt in front of his mother for her blessing and felt the tremor of her fingers. Each time she sent them to fight, her hands seemed to shake worse. At rising, Aegyl stealthily looked at her fingers. They were blue and swollen from twisting her rings.

He went to Rhaenys. Alaena slept in her arms peacefully. She was barely three months old. He drew a finger along her rosy cheek and then lifted it to Rhaenys' pale face. She was trying to reign her fear in but her eyes were huge and dark, her face gaunt and distraught. He touched her cheek, her lips, the outline of her nose. Then, he placed his hand on her still flat belly. "I'll be back before you start to show," he promised. "I swear it."

She nodded silently, too scared to speak. Her nightmares had kept both of them awake all night long.

"Take care," she managed.

"Will do," he promised.

He went to Arelis and turned back one last time. This time, Rhaenys managed to smile. He smiled, too.

He had seen twenty one name days and she had yet to see her twentieth.


	6. Pyre of Death

_A week later…_

"Mother helps us, Gaemon, that girl is with child again!"

"Impossible! Aemon isn't such a fool."

Aemon? Viserys almost craned his neck to hear better but Aegon gave him a warning look. If their parents suspected that they were not fully immersed in their game of wooden men-at-arms, they would shut up and the boys would learn nothing because both Rhaenyra and Gaemon considered them children yet.

"Maester Silvert just told me. In the name of the Seven, Gaemon, what are we going to do?"

"She'll have to get rid of it."

"Don't talk nonsense. She isn't so reasonable. I've known her since she came to us as a child. She's in love with Aemon and will be probably pleased to have as many children by him as she can."

"Even if this girl decides to prove all those talks about the moral of Dornishwomen right, Rhaenyra, I don't think Aegon is so mad to be willing to endanger our future alliances by producing bastards with her as we're arranging his marriage to Hightower's granddaughter. I'll ask him flat and plain whether he doesn't know where moontea can be found."

"No," Rhaenyra spat. "He is _my_ undutiful son and _I_ 'll deal with him. You'll stay aside."

Viserys thought he would never forget the storm that raged afterwards. Summoned to his mother's chambers, Aemon confirmed that his Dornish companion was with child once again. It seemed that his willingness to admit it so freely angered Rhaenyra more than anything else.

"And you don't even have the decency to deny it?" she yelled, her rings turning round and round. "We're fighting for a throne here and you don't have a better thing to do than undermine our efforts for the Hightower match?"

"Why shouldn't I bed Lyanor if I love her?" Aemon yelled back. "What about Cole, why there was nothing wrong with you bedding him?"

He caught her hand in the air, inches away from his face, and shook it angrily. "Don't you dare, Lady Mother," he warned. "Don't you dare hit me, ever again!"

He shook her as if she was no bigger than some of Alysse's dolls. Rhaenyra flew at him again.

"Pull yourself together, Mother," Aemon said. "This babe doesn't change anything. I won't give Lyanor up but I'll wed the Hightower girl. All will be fine. No need of hysterics."

"Don't talk to your mother like this," Gaemon said sharply.

Aemon glared at him. "Don't you tell me what to do. You are not my father, or have you forgotten?"

"I knew your father better than you did and I can guarantee that he would have beaten this sheer madness out of you right upon the spot."

By now, their shouting echoed all over Dragonstone. It was a rare thing for all of them to let their anger free reign and so Aegon and Viserys crept toward the door because the scene was frankly terrifying. Their parents and brother finally remembered about their presence and immediately made a common cause against them and started scolding them for eavesdropping.

"Are you still scared?" Aemon asked a few hours later, joining Viserys on one of the rocks so they could stare at the sun dipping in the pearl waters of the sea. Behind him, Alysse stopped to inspect some flowers and insects in the crevices between the rocks.

Viserys looked at him, inculted. "I never was," he lied.

Aemon laughed approvingly. "This is a good thing for a queen's son," he said. "Mother and I, we'll mend things, never fear."

"And you'll wed the Hightower lady?"

"I will."

Viserys was trying to make sense of things. "But will you let Lyanor go?" he asked. "After the wedding?"

His brother shook his head. "Never. She's _mine_."

He looked at the sunset, narrowing his eyes for sails… or dragon wings.

"Is Aegyl coming home soon?" Viserys asked.

"I hope so, Viserys. I hope so. And there are no ravens either. I am starting to wonder…"

Aemon kept staring for a moment longer. He had come here because it was the highest rock at the coast of Dragonstone but seeing Viserys here reminded him of his own childhood when he had played and… fought with his brothers here. The grief for Baelon, the concern for Aegyl burned in his heart just like they did in his mother's – but he could not let it show. They needed her self-controlled and they needed to show her that they had themselves under control.

"Is Mother still angry?" Viserys asked.

"She is," Aemon replied. "But she's angry with me, not you. I think she's sorry for yelling at you. I know I am." He laughed. "And when your father returns, it'll be just like it was."

Viserys had seen his father flying somewhere to cool off. He hadn't seen his dragon coming back.

"Look, don't take it so hard," Aemon went on. "It was ugly, I know, but it isn't something worth worrying about. We'll patch our differences, win the Hightowers over and _prevail_. Never doubt that."

Viserys wished he could. But everyone was so anxious. And Baelon wasn't coming back. He could not help but doubt.

Aemon seemed to feel his hesitation because he caught his hands and squeezed them tight. "We will prevail, Viserys," he repeated. "We will."

The boy nodded and his brother released him. "And something else, Viserys," he said. "Never hate. Those you hate won't care and at the end, you'll be the one wasting your time and stamina for hatred instead of besting them and proving them inferior to you."

In the silence, Alysse's voice could be heard clearly as she chattered to the flowers and grass.

"And what about you? " Viserys asked. "Don't you hate Aegon?"

"I'm trying not to," Aemon said simply, his eyes sad as the sun plunged to its death in a marvelous display of crimson and gold. Viserys shuddered.

"Why is it so dark?" he murmured.

Aemon sprang to his feet. "Come on!" he yelled.

"What?" Viserys asked.

Unceremoniously, Aemon hoisted him to his feet and broke into a run, only stopping to puck Alysse up. His hand had closed over Viserys' like a shackle and he was tugging him along, paying no attention to the boy's pleas to go slower. Viserys really couldn't keep up but Aemon didn't care. "We're under attack," he yelled and now Viserys realized why it was so dark: the darkening sky was hidden under many pairs of enormous wings.

"We need to get to the castle," Aemon gasped. "We have to organize our defense! If only your father and Aegyl were here… I have to get to Ikkaras."

In his arms, Alysse whimpered, not because she understood that they were under attack but by the tone of his voice and the cacophony of noises surrounding them all of a sudden: human screams and dragon roar. And crackling of fire.

A column of flame burst in the darkness and Viserys saw Rhaenys on her red dragon flying against a green-and-silver one who was about to breathe fire against one of the towers. The two dragons collided with a clash that shook the earth under their feet and Aemon fell down. Viserys felt hot blood running down his leg.

Aemon scrambled to his feet and grabbed the two children again. "Come on!"

The closer they got to the castle, the lighter it became. The night was falling but the flaming breath of the dragons illuminated everything around and it was as clear as a day.

"Here!" Aemon gasped, pushing the children under the low ceiling of a doorless farm building. "Don't go anywhere inside, in case a fire reaches here. Don't let anyone see you. And in the Seven's name, don't go out unless someone finds you. Do you hear me, Viserys? If you do, I'll beat you black and blue. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Aemon." The boy's eyes were wide with horror. The war had come to them – he could see it, hear it, smell it. The thought of arguing never entered his mind. "I'll take care of her," he added.

"Good," Aemon said. "Try not to be seen," he finished and pressed both of them in a quick hug. Then, he ran for the dragonpit without looking back.

Viserys stared at the battle, holding the hand of the little girl. Now he was responsible for her – she was so young, practically a babe. "Don't fear, Alysse," he said. "Nothing bad will happen."

"Is it the bad queen?" she whimpered.

"No," he said. "You're safe here," he lied because he had already counted the enemy dragons. For now, he had seen four. All they had were three. Sure, they were the best ones but… three.

In front of their terrified eyes, dragons fought dragons in the sky. Sparkles flew in all directions and everything they touched caught fire. Black dragon blood poured like rivers and burned holed through everything it landed upon. Viserys and Alysse stood, clinging to each other horrified. "I want Mama," she squealed.

"So do I," Viserys murmured but he could see that his mother had no plans or chance to come to him. Syrax flew around like a huge bright firefly, breathing fire and swatting with her forelegs. To the boy's horror, a knight tried to sneak up to her behind his shield as she sat on the ground panting, licking at a wound she had sustained in her side that had crushed her scales to powder. Alysse whimpered.

Syrax kept licking at her wounds. Steam rose around her as if she sat in a bathchamber. The knight raised his spear…

… and the dragon breathed. Spear, shield, and man all disappeared in a vortex of flame and screams – both man and dragon's.

Syrax rose again.

Viserys desperately looked around for his father's dragon but of Gaemon, there was no trace.

Ikkaras rose high, locked in desperate struggle with two other dragons. The shrieks deafened Viserys and he did not even realize that he was shrieking, too, when his brother's dragon fell like a stone. Around him, the marble of the courtyard melted.

From this moment on, it was all blood and flashes of weapons. Viserys saw Aegon in the distance: two men were dragging him somewhere, with him fighting and screaming. A new breath of fire revealed the Dornish Captive running through the courtyard, a heavy male hand gripping her shoulder. She kicked and bit, and he doubled up and bellowed with outrage, grasping blindly for her but she escaped him easily.

"Aemon!" she screamed and Viserys saw his brother running for her and deflecting a nearby blade in the process. She stretched her arms, as if she wanted to protect him. He threw his arms open, as if he wanted to hold her, and a knife flashed out of nowhere and sank into her breast. She crumbled down without a word. Aemon screamed, his face more anguished than Viserys had ever seen it.

"Mama!" Alysse wailed and Viserys held her tight. His seven-year-old mind already knew that she had just seen her mother dying – but she didn't know it.

"What do we have here?" someone spoke from the door, and Viserys startled.

A huge man stared at him and grinned. "Silver hair and purple eyes. You're the bitch's youngest brat, aren't you? Come here."

"I won't," Viserys said, pushing Alysse slightly aside and holding her hand tight.

"Oh you will," the man said. His grin showed his broken teeth. "My lord will pay me your weight in silver. Come here."

The children stepped back.

He stepped forward. He was so close that when he leaned over, they would feel his breath.

And then, they both sprang to action. Terror made them stronger and wilder they would have been otherwise: Viserys slammed his head against the man's groins. He had seen many a man fall down incapacitated after being hit there. Alysse dug her little teeth into his leg and bit so hard that she tore flesh and spit it out. Their attacker fell on the ground, cursing; the children held hands and ran past him. Not that he tried to catch them: he was howling, pressing his hands between his legs, forgotten about the world around him.

On the outside, they gasped with horror at the sight of the massacre that greeted them. All around, there were dead bodies and men who walked among the living, knives in hand, to finish them off. Viserys felt something heavy falling over him and then everything was darkness.


	7. Dance and Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can think of this chapter as an unexpected threat. It's my grandfather's birthday today!

The door opened to reveal the only person they had seen for the last three days: the jailor carrying the tray with their supper. As always, there was that other jailor who always stayed in the shadow of the door, his sword drawn, as if the two women and the little boy would attack his mate. The thought that they were so feared, even now, gave Rhaenyra some grim satisfaction. She didn't show it in any way, of course – it was beneath her.

As soon as the two men left, she turned to give both Rhaenys and Aegon a stern look. "Eat," she said, curtly, and they obeyed, although they didn't have any appetite. Rhaenyra insisted that they eat and she helped herself to a generous amount of the turnip in butter and deer meat in some kind of stew. They needed their strength. At least the usurper did not keep them hungry.

Rhaenys was clearly pressed hard to eat. Rhaenyra pitied her very much. She had suffered queasiness in only two of her own pregnancies but oh how she remembered it! All those years, and she remembered how fervently wished that she had not been alive, it had been so awful. Rhaenys was always sick or about to be sick. Rhaenyra was quite sure that the bucket they had to relieve their natural needs did not help in the least. They had placed it in the corner farthest from Rhaenys but the smell was still strong enough to make her gag.

All of a sudden, the young woman bolted to the grated window and pressed her face against the bars, taking deep breaths. Even when the nausea was over, she did not turn back. Her shoulders shook. Rhaenyra tried not to look at her because she would start weeping herself… again. Rhaenys was sick with worry for Alaena and Aegyl. Rhaenyra prayed that both were fine… that Gaemon had come back and found them… that Aegyl had managed to avoid the trap they had learned from their captors' boasts had been laid for him… Aegyl, and possibly Alaena, was all they had now. Viserys had probably been killed in the massacre following their capture, his body just another corpse among so many and she didn't dare believe he might still be alive because he probably wasn't… She had seen Aemon falling down dead, a memory that made up scream each time she opened her eyes and weep all day. Aegon's life was probably forfeit, as well as her own. Rhaenys might escape with her life yet, for a traitor or not, she was Aegon's sister. Even Alicent would not wish for her daughter's death. And as far as Rhaenyra remembered, Aegon did what Alicent told him to.

Rhaenyra closed her eyes and prayed for Aegyl, for Viserys and Alaena and yes, even for that bastard child of Aemon's. She had never wished the little girl any harm, she had just wanted to make sure that his relationship with the Dornish girl would not prove a disturbance to their plans.

Now, he could no longer be included in any plans, even if there was someone alive to make them. Gaemon, maybe? Rhaenyra clung to the idea that he would have come back in time to find the children. After all, he and the Stranger had seen each other eye to eye many times, right? And Gaemon had always won.

She clung to it during the long night when Aegon's dragons howled, reminding her painfully of her own Syrax and her sons' dragons, all dead by now; she clung to it when her Aegon asked, only once, "Are we going to die, Mother?" and she did not know what answer to give him, and Rhaenys wept and threw up in turns. She clung to it when in the morning, the door opened to admit six of Aegon's guards. She clung to it even when the three of them were escorted to the throne room where she was treated to the sight of Aegon the traitor seated on the throne that had for so long been occupied by a great king with sharp mind and iron will. Next to the dais, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard looked at her challengingly. Rhaenyra, though, barely spared him a look. _What it was that I ever liked about him_ , she wondered with some distant puzzlement. _Sure, he was young and dashing once and I always held fondness for young and dashing men. And now he's staring at me as if he's been avenged? As if we're combatants on a battlefield and I am not a woman herded forward by armed men? Was he always this malicious and I never knew it?_ He might have been. She had never been interested in his heart and she had warned him not to try and win hers. For all the rumours surrounding her – she suspected that many of them had been Alicent's doing but she had no proof – she had been a devoted wife, as much as her temper would allow. Always a flirt, she had never actually taken a lover while her first husband lived – he had given her three children in a five years span, their last being born a few months after his father's death. Really, what could she seek of a lover that she could not get from her husband? After his death, though… And here she was.

She was actually stunned by her surroundings. She had expected the hall to be packed to the brim with courtiers, Aegon's supporters to cheer her defeat, her sentencing, her death. But it was only the Kingsguard – minus Ser Erryk, - Aegon, and Alicent here.

The guard behind her pushed her slightly forward.

Rhaenys screamed and collapsed on the floor. Aegon's eyes went wide and he stopped dead in his tracks. Rhaenyra followed the direction of his look and a howl escaped her lips. She crumbled on the floor, her body twisting in convulsions that did not obey her will anymore, her teeth drew blood from her bottom lip, her hands got tangled in her hair and tore a few tufts, still it did not relieve the pain. Her tears flowed, her eyes fixed on the fair head on a spear in a sconce of the wall, the head with the golden-silver hair and wide, unseeing eyes. She howled again, mindless of the looks of her enemies, mindless that she was humiliating herself in front of them. She had wanted the Iron Throne, yes, but it had never been for herself only. She had wanted it for him, too. For him and his brothers…

With the corner of her eye, she could see Aemon staring at the head, his own eyes filled with tears but she could not comfort him, she was too devastated herself. And besides, what comfort could she offer? They, too, would die here – her last son and herself.

Some time later – was it a few moments, or a few hours? - they were brought in front of Aegon's throne. He stared at her from above and she wanted to hate him but she couldn't. It was as if her feelings had been cut off her like a limb that has started spreading festering to the rest of her body.

"Are you in pain?" he asked; with the same detached wonder she had noticed about herself earlier she saw that he did not look gloating. He looked pleased, for sure, but there was no trace of the satisfaction Rhaenyra saw in her stepmother's face. _Of course_ , she thought _. Like me, she's a mother who lost a son. What they'll do to me will be her doing… and probably no worse than what I would have done to her, had I had the chance._ "No," she said, calmly, realizing that he meant the blood dripping from her forehead. _I must have hurt myself when I fell down._ "There is nothing that can hurt me now."

Her Aegon was trying not to shake next to her; maesters were hovering over Rhaenys who wept and wept to no end. She didn't want to be touched and wouldn't let anyone examine her. She was huddled next to a window they had opened for her to help her breathe more easily.

 _Why won't you end it already_ , Rhaenyra wanted to ask. _Just to torment us longer?_

"I wanted to see you," the usurper said. His eyes went straight to Aegon. Involuntarily, Rhaenyra pulled the boy closer to her. Her wide, fearful eyes went to her brother's face. Her cheeks paled. Her feelings rushed back.

Criston Cole smiled.

"I just wanted to see you," Aegon said again and looked over to where Rhaenys was still pushing the maesters away. "Bring her to me."

The guards stepped closer. Rhaenys held out a hand to hold them at bay, dragged herself to her feet and went shaking but on her own in front of the Iron Throne. Like Rhaenyra, she did not bow.

Alicent who had been standing next to the throne slowly descended the dais and handed her daughter a goblet. "Drink it," she said.

The smell of tansy hit Rhaenyra's nostrils and she immediately realized what was in that goblet. Rhaenys clearly guessed it, too, because she overturned the goblet, wiped the tears and snot off her face with her dirty sleeve, and said loudly, "I won't."

It was the defiance of a child, not a woman grown. Rhaenyra wept once again at the thought of how young Rhaenys was. How young Aegyl had been. His brothers, and even Aemond… War did not recognize justice. It swept away the young ones, the innocent ones, those imbued with promise and hope.

"You will," Aegon stated. "And then, the two of us will wed. It should have happened years ago but…"

"But you married cousin Vaela, didn't you?" Rhaenys snapped, her voice rising uncontrollably. "What does she think of your idea, by the way?"

He looked aside. "She died a few weeks ago."

 _So the childbirth has proven lethal for her,_ Rhaenyra thought and then laughed, realizing that Aegon had not said he had a son. What a delicious irony!

"You will drink it, Rhaenys," Alicent said calmly. "And then, we can forget about your ill-fated love affair with a dead rebel."

"He was no rebel!" Rhaenys cried out. "And I'll never forget him, never! And this child, it will be born!"

There was something in her voice that made Rhaenyra bristle with fear. She was the only one, though. Alicent caught her daughter by the hand and shook her, forcing her to look her in the eye.

"Leave her!" Aegon cried out and made a step forward to push the Queen Dowager aside.

Alicent only stared at him, stunned that he would dare. In a whirlwind of motion, the Lord Commander stood between them, pushing Aegon roughly aside. "Don't you dare touch Her Grace, boy," he said, menacingly. "Don't you think I cannot deal with you in the blink on an eye as I did with that useless brother of yours."

"Did you, really?"

The question came from the dais. Criston Cole looked up, confusion written clearly all over his face. "I gave the orders personally, Your Grace. No one escaped. Everyone who moved was killed before we left."

"So you've killed Viserys?" Aegon asked, his voice still dripping ice.

Alicent rolled her eyes. "For the Seven's sake, Aegon, don't start with your conscience again… Ser Criston had to do it."

Aegon laughed. "Yes but he should have done it properly! The boy lives!"

Alicent and the Lord Commander looked stricken speechless. "He lives?" she finally managed. "Are you sure?"

 _Yes, yes, yes,_ Rhaenyra's heart sang.

"Gaemon arrived shortly after you left," Aegon told his Lord Commander. "When they started cleaning the bodies away, they found… When they lifted Aemon's body, they found Viserys and the bastard girl there unconscious. He lay over them, it seems, and so he shielded them from the blows. Those idiots of yours never bothered to check… Now, Gaemon is parading them to all of their supporters, along with Aegyl's little girl…"

 _That's why we're still alive_ , Rhaenyra realized and deep relief washed all over her. Aegon was safe. No matter what would happen to her, now preserving her older son's life was essential to the usurper.

"That's even a more pressing reason for us to act," Alicent said and gave her son a harsh look. "You need to have a son by Rhaenys before Gaemon betroths his boy to Alaena and reinforce their claims. They both need to be taken care of as soon as possible."

"No!" Rhaenys screamed.

Her mother held out a hand. Rhaenys cowered back.

"Come with me," Alicent said, impatiently. "Just look at yourself! You need a bath and a good meal. We'll talk later."

"Yes, Rhaenys, go," Rhaenyra heard herself saying. The wild glitter in the girl's eyes scared her like very few things had ever done. Rhaenys was clearly not in her right mind.

With surprising agility, Rhaenys made a few steps backward, somehow managing not to fall down.

"You'll kill my babes," she claimed loudly.

Aegon clung to Rhaenyra's hand. "Mother, what's going on with Rhaenys?" he whispered.

"Be silent," Rhaenyra hissed, scared that even the slightest motion might send Rhaenys over the edge.

Alicent had clearly noticed what was going on, too. "No one is going to hurt you or your children, Rhaenys," she said, her voice softer, loving. "Come here, now."

Rhaenys shook her head and looked around like a cornered animal. "You said… I heard you!" she screamed.

"You've misunderstood," Alicent said calmly. "Do you really believe I'll hurt your little girl? We only mean to have her with us. You are here, aren't you?"

Rhaenys shook her head so fervently that locks of reddish hair, so much like Alicent's own, fell all over her face and clung there, held in place by the tears drowning her. "I don't believe you," she screamed. "It was you who convinced Aegon to claim the crown… it was you who killed my Aegyl!"

Another step backwards, and another yet until she crashed into the window she had huddled under; a moment later she had jumped on the ledge. "Don't come near!" she screamed. Her eyes were rolling wildly, her hair whipped in the wind. Her face had lost its entire beauty, there was no mind in it left – just the feeling of loss, despair, and fear.

Rhaenyra could not believe her eyes. It could not be happening. Rhaenys had truly lost her mind. She was capable of throwing herself through this window – and that would mean certain death. The courtyard down was paved in flagstones. She would kill both herself and her babe in her misguided belief that she was protecting the child.

"Come to us, Rhaenys," she spoke and made a cautious step towards the window. "We will help you. Just come down."

Rhaenys shook her head. Her eyes went to the blond head on the spear and to everyone's horror, she seemed to calm down a little. "Come here, Aegyl," she called out. "Come here and take me. You've always been there to catch me. Come on!"

"She's mad," Aegon whispered, his fingers digging into his mother's hand.

"Do be silent!" she snapped in whisper, calculating ways and chances they could get the girl down.

"Rhaenys," the usurper said, coming near. "Fine. It'll be as you like. Don't jump, all right? You'll be reunited with your Alaena. No one will make you do anything you don't want to. Just stay there. I am coming to get you. Do you understand?"

"No!" she screamed. "Not a step further!"

He didn't make a stop. No one knew what to do. Rhaenys started laughing. "Do you know for how long I've been wanting to shut you up, all of you?" she asked and then her voice rose in hysteria once again. "No! Don't come near!"

They never knew who it was that she thought she had noticed edging closer. She swayed unsteadily and Alicent screamed, rushing to her. Somehow, Rhaenys managed to regain her balance and looked at her mother, vaguely amused. "I wasn't going to jump," she said, her hand going protectively to her belly. And then her eyes went to something behind them and started rolling once again. "No!" she screamed, drops of spittle flying to her mouth in all directions. "You can't have my babe!"

A moment later, there was no one in the window frame.


	8. The Last Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year to all of you! I hope you all enjoyed a wonderful holiday.

_A week later…_

The days had started melting together in a flurry of grief and resignation. She would have lost track of how many days they had spent in their cell, had Aegon not meticulously taken the task to make a small groove on a daily basis on the wall under the window where a leak had left the putty damp.

Whenever she closed her eyes, the nightmares assaulted her; when she woke up, memories crashed over her. She could only assure Aegon that he would be safe but she could not make him believe it. He believed that they would both die and when she was in the clutches of the darkest despair, she believed it, too.

In a strange way, they had started feeling almost cosy in their cell. They could now walk around it in the darkness without hitting the stool, the table, or their own straw-mattresses that now felt comfortable against their back in their hardness. The stench from the bucket in the corner no longer choked them and the stench of their own unwashed bodies, they could no longer tell. They knew when the guards at their doors would be changed.

Rhaenyra had no hope of escaping and she had no desire to, either. If it was up to her, she would be pleased to stretch on the straw-mattress and wait for the end. But if the chance came, she would take it because of Aegon.

Whenever he managed to sink into an exhausted slumber, she would stand near the window, look through the bars at the deserted courtyard and retrace her life once again. All those lords bowing to the little girl and uttering words she could not yet understand fully. Her father's hand, guiding hers toward Syrax' yellow scales. Her astonishment at realizing that the scales that had been wet at her reaching out for her newly hatched dragon had dried completely by the time her hand reached them. Lyonel Strong's patient smile at one or another hasty thing she did. _And I did plenty of those._ Lyonel had known life in a way that only came with age. All those rumours about her being unfaithful to him – how stupid! She had loved him because although he had been much older, he had been also strong and vigorous, his touch had roused her inexperienced body in a way she had never thought possible and women would always love him who could caress them skillfully. Rhaenyra had always thought that handsomeness resided in strength, not a smooth face. The humiliation of her first childbirth bed Since she was a child, she had been listening to women whispering horrifying tales of their own hard ordeals, so she had been prepared that the pangs of childbirth would be violent. No one had thought to warn her that they would be humiliating, as well – and humiliation was a thing that had been more unfathomable to her than any amount of suffering. Baelon's birth had left her… humbled. The fear she had felt when they had placed the newborn on her chest, still crying, and her horror that he might die. Her fear for him had come before her love. The mix of pain and fear at finding herself a widow with two small children and a third on its way, deprived of Lyonel's support and the warmth of his touch. All the men that had followed him in her bed – all of them young and dashing, no one with Lyonel's strength. No one but Criston Cole but then, she had been too young and inexperienced to realize it. The unusual arrangements she had reached with Gaemon. The night she had fled King's Landing… Baelon dying in front of her… Aemon falling down… Aegyl's head on the spike... Rhaenys jumping to her death… And then again: her father, Syrax, Lyonel, Criston Cole, Alicent, Baelon, Aemon, Aegyl, Rhaenys…

Then, a sudden jolt: Viserys! Viserys and the little girls. They always came up last, as if she had separated them from those she had loved and lost. Only her thoughts of Aegon, Viserys, and the girls linked her to this world. Only for them she still clung to hope.

They wouldn't kill Aegon. Of course they wouldn't. Even in their grief for Rhaenys, they would not be so stupid. Gaemon would immediately proclaim their youngest son king and the usurper and his supporters would have wasted a valuable hostage. About herself, Rhaenyra had no doubt that she would be executed. She was too formidable an opponent. Killing her would send a clear message to her allies that their cause was helpless. And besides, Alicent's screams from the day of Rhaenys' death still echoed in Rhaenyra's ears. No, they would not let her live. Fortunately, she did not want to, so she felt no fear.

Of course, her death would be a public affair. Rhaenyra took a good deal of time to consider how she should behave when they led her to the hangman. Her half-brother would no doubt like it if she repented, threw herself at his feet, wept and begged for mercy. The assembled lords would no doubt watch her humiliation eagerly. She would not do it even if she believed Aegon would spare her. But she didn't.

Defy him one last time? Insult him, his bitch of a mother and his traitorous allies? Only a few weeks ago, she would have done it gladly but now she found out that she did not care even about that. Besides, she did not want to make things harder for her own Aegon. It was bad enough that after her death, he would stay here on his own, alone in this nest of vipers.

Her thoughts were interrupted by footsteps. On his straw-mattress, Aegon stirred and opened his eyes. He, too, had recognized the unfamiliar footsteps even in his sleep. His eyes, wide with horror, met hers. Rhaenyra smiled encouragingly, although she knew that the time has finally come.

The door opened to admit Criston Cole, accompanied by a stolid man wearing the sigil of the Hand over his rich tawny robes. Behind them, a squadron of guards and a member of the Kingsguard whom she did not know waited. They could not all enter the cell and Rhaenyra noticed that Cole gagged visibly as he made his way to her. The _stench must be unbearable_ , she thought and wondered whether the Lord Commander would be sick now.

"My lady," he said. "I am here to lead you to His Grace."

"Very well," she agreed. "Take me."

Clearly surprised by her lack of defiance, he gave her a long inquisitive look. She had the feeling that he wanted to take a step back and reevaluate the situation, find out what she might be planning. But he didn't do it. Instead, he turned to Aegon.

"Come on," he said. "Come with us."

Rhaenyra's blood curdled. The realization of what they meant to do to her son dawned on her immediately. All this time, while she'd been planning her conduct in her last hour, she had never thought that Aegon might be one of those who would see her. She clasped his hand and whispered, "Let him stay here. Take me alone."

"It's impossible, my lady."

Rhaenyra grinded her teeth and hugged her son, held him tight. She knew it would be the last time she saw him. "Come on," she said. "Let's go."

The procession crossed the narrow hallway, climbed down a flight of stairs, went through a thick oak door. For first time in over a week, Rhaenyra breathed in the fresh air and only now did she realize how foul the smell in their cell had been.

It was a lovely sunset of gold and scarlet. No cloud marred the sky. Rhaenyra looked at the sun and did not close her eyes against the blinding light. Soon enough, she'd encounter darkness.

Against the walls of the courtyard, lords and ladies in their best finery waited. Rhaenyra didn't even bother to scan them. Her eyes went straight to the wooden dais, to Alicent's gaunt face and fervent triumph in her eyes. From his chair, Aegon smirked at her when Cole brought her close.

Having accepted her death, Rhaenyra looked her half-brother in the eye. "May the Seven curse you," she said. Her voice was not loud but the silence in the courtyard flung it against the stone walls that sent it back with tenfold force.

Aegon didn't show any emotion. "For now, you are the cursed one," he said as a great roar announced the arrival of his dragon, led in with clinking chains over his mighty body. All around the courtyard, voices screamed in horror. Rhaenyra noticed how Alicent paled even more, if such a thing was even possible. _All those years with Father, and she still isn't one of us._ Lyonel had never betrayed any fear he might have felt of the dragons.

People kept screaming and pushing back as the dragon's chains were being removed. Aegon also screamed and the terror in his eyes finally alerted Rhaenyra to what awaited her. He had merely realized it before she did.

Through the primal wild fear crushing her she saw how Aegon fought against the hands dragging him away. He fought but drag him safely away they did. The great mouth opened and send a walls of flames racing against her. She raised her head and screamed, "The Seven curse you!" right before the wall reached her.

The twenty-second day of the tenth moon of the 130th year after Aegon's Conquest died away in a sea of gold and blood-red.


	9. Being Oldest, Still So Young

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought I had abandoned this fic, right? Well, here I am. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and sorry for the long delay.
> 
> As always, thanks for every review. My special thanks goes to Riana1, the greatest reviewer I have on this site. You do keep me willing to write, more than you know.

_Two weeks later…_

He was dreaming of times when it was all better, times when he still had a mother, a brother close to his age nearby, a constant smile on his face, a dragon to hatch soon, and much older half-brothers he worshipped. Times when he still thought everything was goodness and light. Times when he would not look up and shiver at the sight of a dragon wing, his heart pounding until he recognized it as one of theirs but instead gloried in the very sight of it, for young as he was, he still knew that Targaryen dragons were something very special indeed, something that set them apart from other people. Something that made them better. Those were the times he had woke up smiling, eager to see what the new day would bring him.

Now, he only wanted to hide in sleep.

Ikarras roared, the sound hitting Viserys' straight in the chest and making his head hurt. There was a bright lightning in the night sky. A storm. _Dragons love storms_ , he thought.

A new thunder shook the world loose and Viserys opened his eyes. Edvar Celtigar, his father's right hand, stood at his bedside, shaking him away roughly. "Dress yourself," the tall man snapped and looked around, grabbing the first clothes he saw lying around and tossing them on the bed.

Alysse opened her eyes and cried out in fear, clutching Viserys. Ser Edvar squinted at her. "That's Prince Aemon's little girl, right?" he asked.

"She is," Viserys said. Since her parents' deaths, Alysse had started clinging to him all the time and for all his muttering, he didn't really mind. Sure, a girl who was so much younger might be boring but she was another human being and he felt better just by having her around. At night, she crept to his bed and he threw an arm over her, feeling like her protector. With her next to him, darkness was not so very frightening.

In the light of the single torch he carried, Viserys saw the cold glint of his eyes mixed with grave worry. A second lightning shone through the crack in the shudders and Viserys realized it was no lightning at all but a streak of fire produced by a huge mouth.

Dragonstone was under attack.

He started dressing himself quite haphazardly while Ser Edvar was trying to help Alysse dress – _trying_ being the key word. His constant urging to hurry up only made her more awkward and slowed them down further. Shouts rose from the courtyards, the dragon pits, the entire castle, and all around the island.

"Come on," Ser Edvar said when Viserys was ready. "I have to take you out. Your lord father's orders."

A year ago, Viserys would have refused to comply, insisted that he knew where he was being taken, demanded to talk to his father first. War had taught him better. Ser Edvar was Gaemon's most trusted man and there was really no time for explanations. "Come on, Alysse," he said. "We're leaving here."

Her lower lip quivering, she reached for his hand.

Ser Edvar ushered them down the hall but then, they took the lead. The man had rarely set foot into this part of the castle where private chambers were located.

Frenzy wrapped them by all sides. Shouting men, screaming women, running feet everywhere… As they passed a high marble arcade, Viserys saw the horses in the yard far below. In their horror, they had broken the stable doors and were now running wild.

The enemy dragons – two of them – had had their aim at the warehouses of fodder; a few breaths had been enough. Now the entire castle that had barely started to recover from the attack a few weeks ago was burning anew, much faster this time.

"Is it near?" Ser Edvar yelled through the din.

"Just a little more," Viserys assured him. A moment later, they reached the door they had been running for and the man threw it open. The wet nurse spun back, Alaena sleeping soundly in her arms. _How can she sleep_ , Viserys wondered. _Doesn't she hear what's going on?_

"Come with me," Ser Edvar ordered.

The girl looked at Viserys helplessly. He nodded. "Come on," he said. "Fast!"

She grabbed a few pieces of cloth and stuffed them into the first bag she saw. And then they were running down the hall, Alysse somehow stuffed under the knight's arm. His other hand held Viserys' in a vise-like grip. The boy constantly stumbled and slipped, for he could not keep up, but the big hand would not let him fall down – and Viserys knew they should move as fast, so he didn't say a word of plea to slow down a little, despite the fact that his shoulder burned as much as the castle around them.

All of a sudden, the torchlight around them died. They were now in a low corridor meant for the servants that was not lit at night. The wet nurse's voice came, loud and clear, and shaking with fear, "Careful now, there is a staircase a few steps ahead…"

The shouts became increasingly fainter as they kept moving in the darkness. Ser Edvar cursed once or twice when he missed a corner but Alaena's wet nurse knew every inch of this part of the castle and kept directing them. Viserys could feel his shoulder no longer, there was a red curtain in front of his eyes and no air in his lungs. From time to time, he heard a stifled gasp from Alysse and realized that all through their running, she was crying without a voice.

All of a sudden, new light filled their eyes – the light of flames. Alaena started crying. Viserys slapped a hand over his eyes and gingerly looked from beneath his palm.

High above them, two dragons circled Dragonstone, sending flames down, and Viserys recognized one of them as the usurper's own dragon. In the yard around them, servants ran panicked and warriors poured out of the gates for the ships, to meet the coming fleet in the open sea. Viserys saw his father rising on his own dragon to meet them, and while he was awed, Ser Edvar next to him spat out something that he did not understand but the meaning was quite clear. The three dragons were roughly the same size; Gaemon had no chance to win.

"He shouldn't have done this," Ser Edvar murmured, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Surely he knows…"

One of the dragons shrieked in fury and the sound made everyone look up. "Come on," Ser Edvar ordered.

Soon, they were climbing up the rocks overseeing the most desolate of the shores of Dragonstone. The knight cursed from time to time but not too often and Viserys had come here plenty of times with Aemon, while Alysse was light and graceful and most importantly, having no idea just how arduous the ground here was, so they had no particular troubles keeping their footing on the insidious rocks. Yet the young girl, Alaena's nursemaid, constantly stumbled and a few times, Ser Edvar had to steady her on her feet.

"Give the child to me," he said after a while, and she gratefully surrendered Alaena who had gone quiet, too tired of crying.

Now, Viserys realized where they were going. Clearly, they were to hide in one of the many caverns time and winds had cut into the rocks, the caverns pirates sometimes used when they came ashore under the protective mantle of darkness.

The dragons danced and the night glowed like a bright sunny day. Ser Edvar took a deep breath at seeing the amount of ships trying to reach Dragonstone, against their own men's resistance. "We all supposed there was a spy hidden here," he said. "Now, we know for sure… but it's too late."

With a horrified gasp, Viserys realized what the man meant. Their staunchest, most important allies had gathered at Dragonstone in person only two days ago. Now, all of them were either trapped in the burning castle, or embroiled in the fight.

The timing of the attack had been no coincidence.

"They saw us!"

The wet nurse's voice was high-pitched with fear. Her finger feverishly started pointing at the nearest of the usurper's ships where the sailors were pointing at _them_.

"The Stranger take them," Ser Edvar cursed. "Now, when it comes out that you're missing, they'll remember the four they saw climbing those rocks… No!" he added sharply to the wet nurse. "They cannot reach you."

Because it looked like the sailors had no intention of remembering anyone: they just took the road of certainty and started sending arrows against the fugitives.

"Filthy traitors," the knight muttered. "Stay still, I said! We're too high above them…"

But it looked like the sight of the arrows bathed in the light of the flames above their heads had finally proven too much for the girl: she shrieked and drew back, swaying precariously on the edge of the rock. Ser Edvar sighed impatiently and decided to change approach. "Stay here," he told her, tucking her behind a huge boulder. "You two, come with me," he said. "I'll come back for you as soon as I leave them behind this rock," he added, pointing at another boulder a little ahead, at a sharp angle that would hide them from view from the sea.

Two dragon clashes later, Viserys and Alysse pressed close to each other behind the boulder, the babe squirming in Viserys' arms. Ser Edvar had left her on the ground but she was moving her head and might hurt herself. Viserys was quite surprised at how nice the touch of her warm cheek was. He had never been close to a babe and this one had looked quite unpleasant, what with all this wailing.

"Is the bad queen coming?" Alysse wailed.

"I don't know!" Viserys cried right back.

The knight and the peasant girl started making their way towards them but even Alysse could see that their progress was too slow. The wet nurse was paralyzed with fear from the steep climbing and the arrows the men kept sending their way made her jerk away and tremble.

With a huge roar, Gaemon's dragon made a sharp line downwards, obliterating ship and sailors in a huge fire ball. This sudden flash of light so near, though, proved the last blow to the girl's feeble nerves: she gave a shriek and jumped away, instinctively; this time, the loss of balance sent her straight against the water.

Ser Edvar tried to steady her one last time; a moment later, fire and sea took both knight and wet nurse in front of the children's terrified eyes.

Alysse screamed and started whimpering; Viserys did the same.

The battle went on for a while. The children were only a boulder away from the sight of it, yet they were too scared to look. Instead, they clung to each other, almost crushing the babe between them, and squeezed their eyes.

It was only when night became a day, and the sound of battle died away, and no one came for them, that Viserys realized that they had lost. Dragonstone was in Aegon's hands and he was here in person. Viserys' father was either dead or captured, or else he would have sent someone for them. No one knew that they were here, so no help would come. _But_ they _don't know we're here either_ , Viserys reminded himself.

Alysse had gone to sleep, huddled to him for warmth, her head rested against the boulder; Alaena was sleeping, too, finally, and he had been able to put her on the ground. His arms ached from holding her for so many hours – oh how they ached! But they were both blue with cold: the wind was harsh so high above the island, and so close to the sea, too. Reluctantly, Viserys changed his pose and lifted his knees to his chest, not quite pressing them; he placed the babe there, under the doublet he unfastened, so Alaena could get some warmth, and felt something like hatred when she stirred and started crying again, her lips searching for breast and food. _At least they cannot hear her in this waste_ , he thought angrily. Still, her wailing was grating on his nerves. _Shut up, shut up_ , he wanted to scream angrily. But she kept going.

As he fought the urge to take her out from beneath his doublet and throw her on the ground or in the sea, just to get rid of that crying, the realization came to him slowly, like a core of terror that spread all through his body, just like the dawn had appeared as a thin line on the horizon before overtaking it. He was now responsible for a little girl and a babe who would probably die because of the loss of her wet nurse. In truth, he didn't mind the last all this much: Alaena was a bother. A bother with too loud a voice.

But she was his niece. His responsibility. He had to find a way to keep her alive. And that meant finding a way to feed her. Somehow. Very soon.

He nudged Alysse awake and placed the babe on top of her, so he could rise. "Come on," he said. "We have to keep going."

 


End file.
